


metal on our tongues and silver in our lungs

by phoebo



Category: Blue (Band)
Genre: Angst, Denial, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-05
Updated: 2013-07-05
Packaged: 2017-12-17 19:50:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/871342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoebo/pseuds/phoebo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After that night, you make a list because it seems the right thing to do. (You don't write it down, of course, but you keep it in your mind. Just in case.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	metal on our tongues and silver in our lungs

**Author's Note:**

> A long time ago I had a crush on a boyband member (and it's not Liam Payne).  
> I'm talking about Lee Ryan, and I was seven years old. I was absolutely sure I was going to be his wife.  
> Years later, the Duncan and Harry S. accident happened and I was left alone with my Blue!feelings and apparently a new pairing that I was too young to notice. So I went down with that Duncan/Lee crap (it was mostly Judi's fault, as usual) and I read every single interview about those two. Apparently they had threesomes together. And you know, Duncan came out as bi in 2009, so in my head headcanon started to grow and I couldn't really stop it. So this is it.

After that night, you make a list because it seems the right thing to do. (You don't write it down, of course, but you keep it in your mind. Just in case.)

It didn't count because you fucked him and he didn't fuck you.  
It didn't count because you didn't suck his dick.  
It didn't count because you didn't kiss him on his lips.  
It didn't count because you were both drunk.  
It didn't count because it happened just one night. (You should erase that one after the third time though, but you never do it.)  
It didn't count because you are not gay.

But then it happens again, and then again and again and again. You keep looking at that list and you don't feel guilty at all, because it didn't count. Why should you? You don't love him. You don't love Duncan. You two just fuck when you're drunk, and you are just objectively appreciating a gloriously shaped body and a soft smile.

At one point in your life, you realize you've been lying to yourself a lot lately. It's not like an epiphany, of course, but it builds slowly in your chest like you are about to vomit and the next thing you know is that you are drunk and knocking at his door at three in the morning.  
He's just in boxers and t-shirts, which doesn't help at all. And he's smiling and laughing a bit at the same time, and you just want to erase that slightly smug look on his face. The choice is between punching him or kissing him, and you opt for the second one because you really are born for fucking things up.

So you touch his lips with yours for the first time and it's not like you thought about it a lot, but he tastes exactly how he's supposed to taste: his scent is strong, so Duncan, and there's a drop of the alcohol you drank before in the way but it fits somehow. You push him against the wall and someone says "Fuck me", until you realize that those words came out of your mouth.  
He looks at you and, for once, you can't read his mind like you used to. He's looking for something in your eyes or on your lips, you can't tell, but then he nods and he says that it's ok, and he guides you toward his bedroom.

He tries to undress you slowly, caressing every inch of your skin gently, but you don't have time for this: you have to do this before the rational part of your mind comes back, so you tear both of your clothes apart and you force him to lie against you, and you never felt so small in your entire life. (You register the fact that you like the way he's pinning you down against the mattress like you don't really care.)  
He traces lines on your body with his hands, and you close your eyes just to feel. How do you tell him that you don't want to go slow? How can you ignore the shivers down to your spine when you feel one than two fingers inside your body? Everything around you is burning, but his fingers feel so cold. A couple of minutes later you stop him roughly and you let out a strangled sound. «Come on.»  
You can't see him but you can tell the way he's trying to restrain himself, and you bring your palm on his shoulder to feel his muscles tens under your fingertips.

He goes slow at first and it fucking hurts of course, but you need to feel something, and perhaps this will do. You lock your legs behind his back like you've seen him — felt him — do a lot of times, and you urge him with your whole body, arching your spine under his weight and seeing stars behind your eyes.

You let your eyelids open just one time, just when his thrusts become erratic and fast and he's there, inches apart from your face, with his lips slightly parted and you think you have never seen something so beautiful. A tear stream down your cheek and he kisses it away, smiling softly on your skin. «It's ok.» he whispers and you kiss him, pouring everything you want to say in his mouth.

And this is it, because your mind goes blank when you come and he follows seconds later.  
He is careful not to fall on you, resting his forehead on yours. His breath his hot, and you can't take it anymore. You are too tired to fight yourself tonight, so you let yourself fall asleep in his arms. The list doesn't come to your mind.

(He murmurs words in his sleep in the middle of the night that you don't quite get, and something tell you that you should be glad for it.)

In the morning he's still asleep when you wake up, or at least he pretends to be. You dresses yourself quickly and you run away. You hope he'll be able to forgive you. (You know he never will).


End file.
